Saviours of Sol: Chaotic Beginnings
by CitrusIsAPreference
Summary: Massive multiverse crossover (Sonic X; SatAM; SR; SU; AoStH) Sonic hets suck in Station Square alone, but helping out the police while he waits to return home quickly escalates into something much more. Who are The Black Arms, why are they coming to Earth, and how is the 50 year old GUN Project 'Shadow' involved? Because flashbacks of his own past weren't complicated enough...
1. Chapter 1

**1.0 PROLOGUE: **

**_GHOSTS_ OF A HEDGEHOG'S PAST**

When the Chaos Gate abruptly shuts down, the emeralds suspended within its interior flash and vanish a second later. Everyone in the vicinity take a collective breath, and for a moment Chris assumes its because of the sudden drop in air pressure, until the realisation of what he's just done sinks in like a nightmare.

His attention snaps to the closed Chaos Gate and to his closest friend. The expression on Sonic's face is painful to look at; lax. Not calm but utter disbelief and betrayal, his eyes wet, wavering in an absolute, all-encompassing sadness bordered by anger.

Sonic is stranded on Earth, and it's all his fault.

"Chris!" Grandpa Chuck's tone is both agitated and stern, a sudden disruption of thought that makes him jump and turn to the elderly man. Chuck has a face like thunder, striding towards him and the Chaos Gate at a speed he wasn't aware his Grandpa was capable of.

He's already stepping away from the control panel as Chuck grips his upper arm and forcefully pulls him away from the console. His stomach drop into his shoes, the reality of what he's just done sinking in as tears form, the elder's sharp anger mellowing to disappointment. "Why? Why did you do that?"

Chris shakes his head a little as the elderly man takes hold of his shoulders makes their eyes meet, his hold too firm and stare too piercing for his soft tone. "Sonic needs to return home, to prevent our worlds merging and keep time flowing properly. Why'd you turn it off?"

Tears flow freely down his cheeks. Chris shakes slightly, replying in a weak voice. "I… I d-don't know…"

Looking to his stranded friend, he's taken aback by the hedgehog's expression, Sonic's usual confident smirk replaced with disdainful twist, his body coiled in anger and hands balling into fists at his sides. Even his breathing is wrong, so deep and slow his peach-coated chest heaves and his nostrils flare.

"I-I'm so s-sorry, Sonic." The hero's ears fold back, quills bristling in agitation, and Chris' apology dies on his lips. As the hedgehog turns away desperation filters into his tone, reaching towards the Mobian he never wanted to hurt. "Please, I just didn't want you to go! Wait!"

Sonic's first few steps are slow and he pauses as Chris begs. Hope bubbles in the preteen's chest, but the boy's hopes for reconciliation are dashed in a heartbeat when the Mobian glances back with a deep scowl. Then just as quickly Sonic is gone, his slipstream ruffling the hems of skirts and whisking away hats all that remains.

Thoroughly rejected, tears stream down Chris' face, his arm slowly lowering back to his side. Voice lost in the raging emotions only made worse by his prepubescent age, all he can do is stare after the cerulean, regret for inflicting the same loneliness he's endured most of his life on his closest friend in a selfish attempt to keep him.

"He's stuck here," Chuck comments softly. He catches the elder's gaze and the disappointment merging with concern in Grandpa's deep brow furrows makes him feel sick all over again. "Until we get some updated readings from GUN, we won't know if him being here is enough to still force our planets to merge."

Nelson Thorndyke strides up the steps to the console. "There must be something we can do," he states briskly, already scanning the machine for anything his father may have missed, the calm confidence of a CEO unwavering in the face of a challenge. "So we don't have the same energy source, but can use something else? Tails made a fake emerald, didn't he?"

Chris turns away, unable to face the disappointment he knows he'll see in his dad's eyes, wiping tears from his cheeks as they burn in embarrassment. Being impulsive in front of Nelson is the last thing he wants to do, the successful businessman a role model he aspires towards now sure to think of him as childish.

He looks to where Sonic ran off and isn't surprised the hedgehog hasn't returned. People gossip quietly, casting judgemental glances his way. Chris wants the ground to swallow him up, barely able to keep himself standing as emotions swell in his head, and it's almost beyond his composure when his Mom kneels before him.

Focus still on the forest fifty feet away, he doesn't look at her until fingers glide through his hair. He expects to see disappointment on her features, but instead her expression is sad but sympathetic, irises swimming with unshed tears where others have smudged her perfect make-up. A tidal wave of sadness to crash over him and all his resolve abandons him in a moment.

Devastated by the loss of his closest friend and crushed beneath the reality of his own selfishness, he falls into his mother's hug. Chris finally allows himself to be the kid he is and sets his emotions free, sobbing in his mother's shoulder as the Thorndyke patriarchs try to fix his mess.

_I'm sorry, Sonic. Please. Please forgive me._

oOoOo

Running blindly through the undergrowth, the tears that stream down Sonic's cheeks are whisked away before they can leave tracks through his fur, dissipating in his slipstream before he can acknowledge them. His mind feels numb, rejecting all thought and rationality in the face of his friend's betrayal, his consciousness in too much turmoil to contemplate anything.

So he does what comes naturally. He runs.

His feet choose the course through the forest, weaving between trees and jumping obstacles, paying no attention to his surroundings beyond instinct. With his senses so detached his mind writhes with emotional turmoil, desperately trying to claw its way out of an encroaching darkness Sonic isn't used to dealing with, even if it somehow feels _familiar_.

Leaf litter becomes grassy plains as the forest is left in his shadow, sun crawling across the sky as time passes. Open grassland becomes loose sand but still he runs, does not look back, afraid of what might overcome him if he does. The wind whips this uncomfortable anger away with his tears, leaving an unmarred blankness in its place.

His legs shake from exertion as he crosses the sands, grains sliding beneath his feet and absorbing the pounding of his pace. Still his anger burns, a weakness he's unaccustomed to only made worse by the incessant ferocity of the sun. By the time desert turns to patchy dirt he's coated in a thin sheen of sweat, damp fur sticking to his arms and legs as he continues on.

Earth yields to sea and momentum alone keeps him above the surf. The sun begins to drip in the sky, the freshness of sea spray a welcome relief after baking in the desert. With no concept not care for how much time has passed, no knowledge of _where _he is, surf becomes sand once more, he continues on aching leg. The terrain suddenly becomes dense woodland again, grass damp beneath his unsure stride and auburn mud squelching under his sneakers

The sun sinks lazily in the sky, dyeing the foliage a burnt orange as it prepares for the rise of the moon. Dodging branches and leaping fallen trunks, Sonic goes onwards until his legs finally betray him, his stride slowing as they began to feel akin to lead, exhaustion and emotion creating a heaviness he can no longer deny.

With one final step he falls to his knees, palms flat against the damp grass and head hung between them. His whole body shakes as he gasps for breath, the sadness he's been repressing finally allowed to wrack his body as he sobs in isolation. Tears soak his cheeks and drip to the ground only to get lost in the mud and grass below, irrelevant in the vastness that is the forest's solitude.

He weeps for his friends safety, the prospect of leaving them unprotected as Eggman strives for world domination an anxious ball in his throat, choking him as he tries to remember to breathe. He weeps for himself, for his own future trapped in a world of humans without Mobian company, for his own stupidity for never taking his relationship with Amy seriously. He sobs aloud the lost opportunities; he's been fighting Eggman for as long as he can remember, never considering getting old, having kids, to love and be loved.

Gloved fingers trowel into the dirt as his emotions reach a fever pitch, the shake of his limbs reducing the small mounds to nothing moments later. His eyes are raw when they open and stare vaguely at the dirt below, his internal exhaustion leaving a cavern of emptiness where empathy once resided, leading to the loss of his cheerful facade that opening a door he'd long since barricaded.

Anger he hasn't felt in eight years boils forth, a blinding outburst of rage last expelled against Eggman soon after the first met.

He doesn't remember being enraged, only that it saw the man almost murdered by his hand. A second away from ripping the Human's throat out with his teeth, Tails had begged him to come to his senses. The kit's fear was enough to return him to sanity, and since then his existence had been what drove him to manage the anger, to smother it with a smile and join life's great masquerade.

Detachment from mortality was apparently easy when you had nothing to return to, no memories of where you came from, and until Tails became like a brother it would remain as such. By the time everything got more serious, he'd found he could keep frustrations in check by circumventing it, turning events into challenges to overcome rather than life-threatening situations.

Now, his life is empty again.

Everyone he knew and loved has gone back to Mobius with the nutcase known as Doctor Eggman and he can't protect them, stuck in an alternate reality full of stupid, obstinate humans because of one selfish little boy.

With nothing to ground his emotions, anger engulfs him once more. He doesn't react when it begins to rain, the gentle patter of cool water on his fur unnoticed while in the midst of instability. Sonic squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his teeth as wave after wave of catastrophic logic drowns out his common sense, reality reduced to little more than perceptions of delusions and hatred.

An energy that should repulse him begins to overtake his body, a seeping darkness that trickles through his system and quivers along his muscles. He doesn't notice the subtle lift of his quill or the darkening of his fur, mind struggling to retain itself as his body fights against the strange invasion.

A chill so strong erupts from his chest, startling enough to make Sonic shudder. The shock brings him crashing back to the present, only able to endure the unfamiliar sensation as it washes over him. He begins to notice the rain, the light pattering now a downpour, and tired eyes open to stare blankly at the mud as a memory surfaces.

* * *

_"It's so unfair!" Sonic whines, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, the image of the woman towering over him blurred by their presence. "I wanna go too, Ma! _She _always get to go with _me _when I visit Uncle Chuck!"_

_She crouches before him, the picture of elegance even as she gets to her knees and draws the toddler into a hug. "Because Charles is her Uncle too, Olgilvie. But Bartleby is her friend, not yours. If you visit a friend, she won't be permitted to accompany you unless you wish it."_

_Rejecting the embrace he pushes her away, turning to look at a wall with his arms folded above his pudgy stomach. "Don't care! I wanna go!" He looks down to the white guitar medallion hanging around his neck with annoyance before adding: "She always gets what she wants while I have to be the responsible older brother. She's only minutes younger! It's not fair!"_

_Her tone takes on an authoritative lilt. "Olgilvie…"_

_"I told you it's _Sonic _now. That's the name I chose, Ma!" He stamps a foot as he looks back to her, eyes drying as his face creases in anger. He can feel the same rage rising in his small body. His emotions more intense as a toddler, his boiling point is already just a moment away. "So what if it's hard to find names to match it with? I'm the oldest! And I wanna be Sonic the Hedgehog!"_

_Despite his anger, the woman before him seems sympathetic. She rests her hand on the medallion hanging against his chest, bringing his attention down. At her touch, the small red gem set into the medallion glows softly, emitting a soothing chill that displaces his anger with a reassuring calm. _

_"Centre yourself, Sonic. Do you remember what the Oracle told you?" Realising she used his chosen name the young hedgehog puffs out his chest in satisfaction, all of the negativity lost beneath his confidence and the cleansing energy of the medallion._

_The high it's short lived; the mention of the Oracle and his predictions always sours Sonic's mood, and he sighs with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, I remember. Great power, equal darkness and light, control my destiny, more stuff that makes no sense. Yada yada."_

_Her smile is a strange combination of reprimanding and kindness, the older female taking a moment to smooth down the quills he didn't notice raise. "Do not disregard his foresight so easily, young Prince. He has yet to be wrong, only cryptic. He wishes the best for us all."_

_Stroking his cheek with affection brings the cerulean's gaze back to her own. Dpite being young, he identifies the worry in the lines around her eyes and mouth, a sobering realisation for a five year old. "But why us, Ma? Why do we have to leave? What's gonna happen if we don't? And why's Orc always on my quills?"_

_"You are special, Olg- Sonic." _

_Her smile becomes more natural as she lifts his chin slightly with a forefinger. "How or why has yet to be determined, but you are. That is why the Oracle has an interest, to be sure to guide you down the correct path, to the foreseen Council of Four."_

_Leaning forwards, she plants a kiss on his forehead and straightens. "Remember, my Prince; kindness, empathy and compassion. Those are the qualities of a true King, a Hero of his People."_

* * *

Returning to the present, Sonic finds himself soaked and freezing. The wood is dark, the rising moon barely able to penetrate the trees. His left palm supporting him in the mud, his right clutches at the fur of his chest. Toddler Sonic had a medallion there, but there's nothing there now, leaving a sense of loss in its wake. He releases the fur and shivers, already soaked to the bone even though the rain has stopped.

Sonic tries to focus on the memory, on the woman the young him called 'Ma', but all he can recall is the deep purple hue of her fur and a small tiara between her ears. He feels strangely calm in the wake of the memory, a sense of peace with himself he doesn't understand, but it has brought clarity to his current situation.

And he has a preteen Human to reconcile with.

oOoOo

It's past midnight when Sonic returns to Station Square, the darkness illuminated by orbs of light atop posts line the streets. Sonic dodges the few pedestrians and cars still about with ease despite being distracted, mentally preparing himself for the unavoidable conversation with Chris on the horizon.

He nearly misses the sheer number of cars and people loitering around the Thorndykes' driveway, but manages to divert into a neighbour's bushes at the last moment. Crouching in the undergrowth, he notes Sam Speed's own racer and three marked police cars cluttering the oval driveway, assumedly for Chis and him respectively.

What puts his quills on edge is the presence of a GUN vehicle, because they should be more concerned with the potential Mobius merger than the disappearance of a single hedgehog for an afternoon. Were they going to attempt to take him into custody for bailing, or until they could send him home?

From what little interaction he's had with Commander Towers and his agents, he's not fond of their ideals or how they handle sensitive situations. As such, Sonic has no desire to become acquainted with them, arrested or otherwise.

He shivers, now dry but still feeling the soaking he endured earlier. More than anything he wants to drop into the kitchen through a window and gladly accept the mug of cocoa Ella will force upon him. A phantom richness floods his mouth and he begins to salivate at the thought, mind wandering to a warm, comfortable bed and blissful sleep.

_If the Thorndykes take me back._

Sonic's ears fold back to his skull and he swallows. The seemingly malicious prevention of his return to Mobius was likely a moment of madness by a vulnerable child, and of course Chris had panicked. His only friend was about to leave him alone in a massive house, whims catered for but feeling wholly unloved, and Sonic has been unable to see past his own nose.

Regret sits heavily in the Mobian's stomach, sinking like a lead weight into his sneakers as bile bubbles in his throat. He has to make this right, to be the friend he had been for Tails while he's stuck here and hope to Chaos the Thorndykes or GUN can eventually figure out a way to get him home

Taking a deep breath, Sonic holds it a moment, exhaling sharply as he gets to his feet. His trademark smirk comes easy again as he steps out of the bushes and onto the driveway, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of floodlights that illuminate his figure.

Weapons load and safeties are disabled, but he won't falter in the face of GUN, instead smiling cheerily and addressing the cadets focused on him. "Hey. S'up?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the reviews. I'm glad the backstory has been a hook, and I hioe you stick around for thenlong haul, because thisnis going to be a long'un! _

_And fir now? Yes. Cheis is a dick, the end. But it gets more complicated as time goes by._

* * *

**1.1: A HEDGEHOG...**

**...IS HIS OWN WORST ENEMY**

Five minutes later, Sonic finds himself in the living room, cocooned in a blanket with a steaming mug of cocoa in his bare paws. He barely remembers Ella insisting he remove his clothing to be washed and dried, let alone being led to the sitting room and supplied with the beverage.

The weight of the knitted comforter is reassuring as it leeches the chill from his bones, the cocoa working from within to expedite the process. Neither keeps him from ruminating on his recent mistakes though, and the eyes of over half a dozen humans on him as he sips the hot, sweet beverage makes it roil in his stomach.

Chris is nowhere to be seen. The hedgehog can only hope he's sleeping rather than avoiding him.

In an effort to keep himself calm Sonic stares at his feet, enjoying the novelty of wriggling his bare toes in the cool air. On Mobius, it's customary for males to only remove their clothing near immediate family or significant others, a faux-pas the cerulean had embarrassingly relearned after losing his memory, so he's rather enjoying the freedom exclusively Human company provides.

That is, until it becomes a reminder his friends have gone back without him, at which point he sobers. Settling his feet in the plush carpet, Sonic finally gathers his confidence and looks up, surveying the faces in the room with a combination of trepidation and curiosity.

Nelson and Lindsey Thorndyke can be heard near the doorway, the former's tone sharp and agitated against the soft calmness Chris' mother speaks with. His ears lower a little, their continued presence a sure sigh Chris was badly affected by his sudden departure, or they'd be halfway across the world by now on express flights back to their all-important jobs.

Beyond them he recognises the confident tones of Scarlet Garcia and her cameraman, presumably here for updates on the situation, talking quietly with the undercover GUN agent that had been working as Chris' teacher since the hedgehog befriended him, Mister Stewart. They seem neutral in opinion discussing his return and how lucky it was tomorrow was a Sunday, or Chris may have needed a day of leave to recuperate.

Ears flattening further, Sonic disregards them and moves on, felt-soft triangles picking up a little when recognising the gravely tone of Commander Towers in the adjacent room. He's talking with a number of men and women Sonic can't identify, voices too low to decipher words beneath the ambient noise of the living room, and his quills twitch anxiously that they're keeping a low profile.

Just GUN Agents was bad. The Commander himself _with_ said GUN agents taking in an adjacent room raises concerns for his future freedom.

Someone opposite clears their throat, simultaneously hushing the chatter and drawing the cerulean's attention. Ears turning from surveillance, his eyes soon follow to see a disgruntled-looking Chuck is in his pyjamas and slippers. Likely dragged from his bed because he knows the hedgehog better than any other residents of the house, the elder hunches forward tiredly with his elbows on his knees and hands hanging limp before him.

To his credit, Chuck offers a weak smile, his tone level and reassuring, though lacking the usual enthusiasm he usually injected into life. "How're you doing, Sonic?"

Sonic's ears twitch in uncertainty, irises skimming over the faces behind the patriarch to gauge their emotions. Only Nelson seems agitated, while everyone else sports a nervous smile on their face that isn't too reassuring, setting the hedgehog's claws tapping against his mug.

Stalling for time, Sonic takes a long drag if his cocoa, eyes locked on the mug for some time as he lowers it back into his lap. It's an active challenge to not continue to tap it nervously, the clink of china beneath short claws as annoying as it is reassuring in the ensuing silence.

When he looks back to Chuck and met with the same tired kindness, he finally overcomes his inhibitions and shrugs lethargically. "Worried about a lot of stuff, I guess." Emerald orbs they slide back down to the mug, clutching the ceramic like a radiating lifeline. "How's Chris?"

"He's been better." The hedgehog closes his eyes and tries not to cringe outwardly, the quiet sentence enough of an explanation for the kid's absence from their meeting beyond the time of night. "He's just gotten to sleep, but you should talk tomorrow. I assume you both have things to say to one another."

Sonic nods, his mouth rapidly drying as bile rolls around his stomach. The silence stretches on until Chuck breaks it, a resigned sigh that draws the hedgehog's eyes back to see the elder Human rubbing his forehead, his own eyes closed. "The Chaos Gate won't turn back on. Nelson and I tried every power source we could imagine, but none of them worked."

Chuck's irises lock with his, regret and sadness written in the lines of his face. "I'm sorry, but you're stuck here."

The elder continues to speak, prattling off technical jargon Sonic can't hear through the bubble forming around his head, let alone attempt to understand. He catches brief snatches of how GUN is monitoring the merger, of their scientists assisting with the replication of Chaos Fakes and a redesign of the Chaos Gate to raise their effectivity.

_"I'm sorry, but you're stuck here."_

Despite already knowing that in his heart, hearing the words from another's mouth hammers the truth home. Sonic almost drops his mug, reflexes alone saving the cream rug from an irremovable stain and jolting him back to the present in one fell swoop.

"He gets the idea, Dad." Nelson's interjection is forceful, his expression tight as he regards the hedgehog with distaste. Sonic' quills rise defensively and he has to force them back down along with the urge to bare his teeth. "We've decided it'd be best if you went with Commander Towers. For Chris' sake."

"You mean it's what _you_ decided," Chuck chides, turning on his son with equal disdain as Towers quietly enters the room, seemingly summoned by the mere mention of his name. "And since when do you know what's best for the boy? You've been home just three weeks so far this year between you! Maybe if you spent more time with your family and less time chasing profits-"

He lets their argument fade into the background to focus on Towers, eyes joining his already-pivoted ears to hold the Human's dichromatic gaze. The lines of his face suggests he's older than Chuck, yet Commander Towers still holds himself with pride and poise. With his uniform spotless, greying hair buzzed close to the scalp and nairy a flicker of uncertainty is his features, he's imposing enough without the silvered scar just a quarter inch from his right eye.

Then Towers smiles. A cold, sly curve of a corner of his lips that sends a shudder of apprehension down Sonic's spine.

GUN may be helping get him home, but this man _wants something_ from him in the meantime, and the hedgehog has no desire to find out _what_. Even without a burning need to apologise to his friend, Sonic is certain he will not let himself be taken into this human's custody, because that smile has his instincts screaming that it might be the last mistake he ever made.

"It's fine, Chuck." His voice feels hollow as he speaks, eyes cemented on the Commander, assertion quietening the Thorndyke patriarchs and drawing a frown from the elderly Commander at once. "I get it, and don't want to cause any trouble. If Ella gives back my stuff I can be out of your fur in a Sonic Second."

His wording is careful and precise, tone calm as Sonic holds Towers' gaze, his eye contact a warning that he's not going quietly. Each intone is evidence of his intent of an imminent exit from the Thorndyke estate without GUN's assistance, should Nelson give the word.

Towers seems to be catching on fast, though; a hand moves behind his back, and a moment later his Agents tense, hands hovering near their holsters. Sonic's muscles coil as he seriously considers if he needs his shoes and gloves in a world nobody cares his extremities are nude, plan to be halfway across the globe before Towers can order his arrest rapidly forming in his mind.

Glancing back, he catches Nelson's uncertain gaze with determination in his own irises. The human seems to be catching onto Sonic's distrust of the Commander, his eyes flickering between the deep frown on Tower's face and Sonic's calm certainty as his own confidence erodes.

"Just say the word," the hedgehog encourages, handing authority over to Chris' dad. "Your home, your rules."

oOoOo

With Nelson's approval, Ella was dispatched to set up a futon in Chris room. Towers had seemed furious, but Sonic wasn't privy to his temper tantrum as he'd been quietly ushered off by Tanaka to brush the sugary chocolate from his teeth and get ready for bed.

Being basically naked all day anyway, he politely declines an old pair of Chris' pyjamas and lets the astute butler lead him to the preteens room, an ear turning to the muffled conversation in the living room. He can't decipher any meaning from the raised voices though, eventually giving up and following Tanaka obediently up the stairs.

While Chris' dad might not _want_ him to stay, it seems he's too distrustful of GUN's motives to hand him over. Sonic had to stop himself sagging in relief when Nelson refused Towers' proposition of providing lodgings at GUN HQ, using Chris's need to reconcile with his friend as an excuse to keep the anthropomorphic hedgehog from whatever the man had planned.

_Thank Chaos for small mercies._

The bedroom Tanaka leads him to is dark, heavy curtains drawn across the expansive glass windows and doors obscuring the balcony overlooking a pool in the backyard. Sonic thanks the man quietly before slipping inside, pausing just beyond the threshold to let his eyes adjust to the dim light as the door shuts softly behind him.

It takes a few seconds for the dark shapes around him to become furniture, the king-size bed by the drawn curtains and its occupant sharpening into grayscale. Chris' small form is curled close to the inside edge of the bed, his sheets a tangle of limbs with a shock of tussled auburn hair and a single pillow discarded on the floor.

A pang of guilt twists the Mobian's stomach at the sight. He's obviously been restless, sheets uncomfortably tight around the small body precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress, his remaining pillow maybe three more tosses from joining its partner on the carpet.

The child's state is due to his lack of emotional control. Sonic can't bring himself to go sleep on the nearby futon knowing Chris looks so uncomfortable. He pads over to the king bed as quietly as possible and gently begins to untangle the sheets, movements easy and practiced after years of doing the same for Tails when he was a toddler.

A few minutes later, bare azure fingers straighten silken sheets over the preteen's small frame, drowning him in fabric before tucking the edges slightly under his sides. Happy with the Human burrito he's created, Sonic takes a moment to brush stray hair from the boy's face, glad for the peaceful expression on Chris' face.

"We'll talk tomorrow, Buddy." He states quietly, a sad smile curving his muzzle. "I only hope you'll forgive me."

oOoOo

_He regains consciousness suddenly, as if startled from the brink of death. The young cerulean raises suddenly only to hunch over, ending up on his hands and knees and gasping for breath between dry-heaves that wrack his body. The unexplained nausea subsides slowly, and only when his strained breaths come uninterrupted do his ears perk and rotate in search of sound._

_Silence envelopes him, the lack of stimuli forcing the child to raise his head until glazed eyes can trail over nearby cindered grass and tree husks. The carnage acknowledged but not truly understood, the devastation is beyond the seven year old hedgehog's comprehension as he forces his unsteady frame to stand._

_With the higher altitude comes better comprehension and he pivots on the spot. Anxiety rises in the boy's throat upon realising he's at the epicentre of a six foot circle of burnt grass, blackened tree trunk husks and dark dirt that suddenly returns to forest foliage at its circumference._

_Confused and afraid he clutches at his chest only to find it bare, whatever he's reaching for already lost. The lack of this object leaves him hollow, the carnage and the sudden realisation he can't remember _anything _working together to raise his anxiety into full-fledged fear._

_Nothing; no name, no history past or recent. His breath comes hard and fast as he raises his hands in front of his face to study them, the white gloves bordering cerulean fur as unfamiliar as the forest he's found himself in. These hands _\- his _hands - begin to shake as they lower again, the young hedgehog drowning in uncertainty and emotion._

_He has no words for this feeling. He's simply empty._

_Then a scream causes him to pivot, ears pert and twitching in the hopes of catching another. Nausea roils in his gut at the prospect of someone in danger, but at the same time their distress is a reassurance he's not as alone as he feels, that there are people nearby who might know who he is and how he ended up here._

_Another scream works with his sense of direction to pinpoint the sound, a slightly north-eastern lilt on his current position. He doesn't dwell on how he knows how to navigate but instead allows his instincts to take over, whereupon powerful legs move so fast they outrun his torso and deposit him suddenly on his back, a _whoosh _of breath forced from his lungs._

_He'd have stayed there, wallowing in his dented pride, if a third scream didn't ignite his instincts again. It encourages the young hedgehog to pull himself to his feet and with some more trial and error, the azure hedgehog is soon dashing through the forest at speeds he could never have imagined without experiencing it. _

_The wind and adrenaline together create a euphoric sensation that feels strangely familiar, one the kid surrenders to entirely in the absence of anything else to cling onto, letting it carry him towards the screams._

_Then he trips over a fallen log and yelps, falling face first at supersonic speeds. His hands come up to protect his face as he impacts the ground-_

* * *

Sonic bolts upright and raises his hands to protect his face in a single motion, flinching for a few seconds for an impact that would never come. Blankets fall from his chest and pool in his lap, the rustle of sheets and the Mobian's heavy breathing the only sounds in the room bathed in late morning light.

Slowly the hedgehog untenses, quills and arms relaxed in stages as recent history returns to working memory. The azure's breathing has returned to normal levels by the time his hands rest in his lap, eyes vacant as he reflects on the first event he ever remembered, this 'awakening' still as confusing as it was eight years ago.

With a sigh, he turns his head to observe the already neatly made king-size bed with Chris' pyjamas folded on a pillow, the wayward cushion returned to the bed in its designated spot. Having seen how messy the kid could be in everyday life, Sonic has no doubt someone has followed in his wake and cleared up the carnage.

He spots his gloves, socks and shoes in a neat pile at the foot of his futon and smiles softly. _Ella. Of course._

Gauging the sun's height to make it late morning, the Mobian's tiredness dissolves instantly as he throws the blankets from his lap and reaches for his clothes. Too late for a run before breakfast, he only hopes he's not late for breakfast as well, stomach empty from the previous day's missed meals growling at just the thought of food.

With a final tug of his glove to pull it into place, Sonic hastily makes his bed - not as neat as Ella's, but he figures its the thought that counts - before jogging out the door. Not skipping a beat he takes to the banister, sneakers bent around the curved wood as he skids down its waxed surface, speeding him towards the ground floor faster.

Six months of practice pays off when he reaches the end of the handrail, azure fur becoming a blur as he dismounts the rail less than an inch from the knob on the bottom, spins a half-dozen revolutions in mid air and sticks the landing with the aplom of an Olympic gymnast.

"Very good, Master Sonic."

He turns to see Tanaka in the kitchen beyond a wide arch, up a ladder near the stove. His face is set in determination as he tries to scrape a burnt pancake from the ceiling while Ella bustles about beneath. A pile of perfectly fluffy discs grows steadily beside her while she squeezes fresh juice, rounds up pancake toppings and slowly cleans a cluttered, sticky mess from the kitchen counters.

Having never seen Ella burn anything, Sonic raises a brow in curiosity and leans his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "Did Lindsay try to cook again? It looks like something exploded."

The spanish housekeeper snorts in tainted amusement. "It would seeming Young Christopher has 'is mother's skills in the kitchen, mm?" She moves seamlessly from stove to sink, efficiently removing the grime from a thoroughly abused blender before heading back to flip the pancake in the pan, only then looking to Sonic. "He is wanting to apologise. I wish she'd ask me to 'elp, not 'is Grandpa. My poor kitchen…"

The worst of the burnt pancake dislodges from the ceiling, hitting the floor with a heavy thunk. "You should talk with them," Tanaka expresses, though still focused on scraping the ceiling rather than looking to the hedgehog. "Master Chris has much to discuss with you, and awaits your arrival in the dining room."

No longer feeling relaxed Sonic straightens, eyes cast towards the casual dining room as a nervous feeling flutters through his gut, his response a whisper more to himself than a reply to the butler.

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about…"


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello again. _

_For my guest: I have updates up untio 1.9, I believe. Techjically the end of the first arc. After that, I'll write another whole arc before uodating again, so you'll get it all relatively quickly (one a day, so long as we keep gaining reviews) until my material runs out._

_The only delaying factors will be bunnies not playing ball to write, or working on other stories. I tend to just do what they want, because my bunnies are free range, but I'll try to focus them a little!_

_Thanks again for the review!_

* * *

**1.2: ...IS SUBJECT TO DESTINY**

_A few more tumbles and a head-long collision into a tree trunk later, he finally clears the forest. Skidding to an unsteady stop on tip-toe, the speedy hedgehog spreads his arms for balance where he stops a hundred metres from the treeline. Bent precariously at the waist, he pinwheels his arms and arches his back, rocking his balance backwards until his heels hit grass and dirt._

_The sigh that escaped his lips is lost in raucous laughter far more disturbing than the cries for help, an 'Oh hoh hoh' of inhaled air with a tinge of insanity. Blue ears turn backwards and he bares his teeth in a cringe, though he can't help gazing up at the source of the offensive laugh in sheer curiosity._

_What he sees is even more disturbing, in honesty. _

_His ears soon swivel back as his eyes widen in shock, the young azure taking an unconscious step away from the metallic monster towering over him; a sleek egg-shaped chunk of red, black and yellow with a head, arms and legs stares ominously down at him, orbited by a similarly egg-shaped creature in a floating metal craft._

_Cold, lifeless luminous yellow eyes fixate on him, their lenses independently adjusting their focus like a living creature. The hedgehog feels his heart rate start to climb, his legs burning to turn tail and speed off the way he came, until he hears whimpering coming from the monster's hand. Looking up, a kitsune is dangling by the tail from the monstrosity's clenched fist._

_The laughter finally cuts out, and the being floating about the monster's head lowers itself closer. It appears to be a living thing crushed into the small, floating device. Entirely hairless except for a bushel of orange nose hair, its modesty is maintained by fabric of colours that match the metal beast, suggesting they know each other._

_"Well isn't _this _a horrible surprise." The creature projects his course voice too loudly to need to be so close, though as the azure's senses return he realises they're surrounded by furred creatures peeking out of buildings, apparently too scared to come out. "And here I hoped you'd managed to atomise yourself with that idiotic display of power. How unfortunate you survived."_

_He blinks and relaxes slightly in surprise, attention snapping back to the egg-shaped man sporting an amused grimace at odds with his words. "You… know me?"_

_"Know you?!" The immediate escalation of anger in the person's tone is disconcerting, and he finds himself taking another step backwards in response. "_You _have been the bane of my life for the last six months, all because of your selfish desire to _live_, and when I finally have you right where I want y-"_

_His tirade ends abruptly, then a wicked smile curls the face fur beneath his hooked nose, raising the tiny spectacles perched upon it a fraction of an inch. Immediately the hedgehog gets a bad feeling, the hairs on his arms raising. "Oho. How _interesting. _You don't remember anything of our arrangement do you, my friend?"_

_His cerulean frame sags in disappointment, not only because the rotund man's appearance and voice don't jog any memories but he's coming across as hostile. Huge metal beast terrorising a town, swinging a vulpine who can't be any older than three about by his tail, wishing he hadn't survived whatever happened in the forest?_

_Not exactly the behaviour of a 'friend'._

_"No, I don't." It takes a lot of effort to keep his quills from raising in anxiety and plaster a helplessness expression on his face, even harder to make the ear turned to the metal monster seem causal. "Can you help a guy out, Egghead?"_

_The face-furred creature sneers at the name, but the hedgehog wants him to be irritated, to take the guy's power away some while he makes his move. After all, he's already decided the guy can't be trusted, but what he can do about him, his metal friend, or the kid being dangled twenty feet off the ground still eludes him._

_The deep frown on the man's face twists into a wide smile. "Most certainly, my dear _Friend." _He motions to himself dramatically, a flourish of a white-gloved hand to his chest as he angles his nose to the heavens. "I, of course, am the evil genius, revered and _feared _scientist, engineer and robotics expert known in _this _world as Doctor Eggman_!_"_

_Emerald orbs glances sidelong at the dangling child, who looks just as mystified as he does. The hedgehog shrugs, taking great amusement from the vulpine nonchalantly doing the same where he dangles._

_"And you," the man projects with poorly disguised malice, drawing the cerulean's attention back to a scowl morphing into that exaggerated grin, his tone quickly becoming bitter-sweet. "Are Sonic the Hedgehog, the lowly rodent who disappeared six months ago whilst assisting with my most recent magnificent creation; the Living Battery."_

Sonic the Hedgehog.

_The name doesn't feel familiar, but Eggman himself just insinuated his own title is new. Perhaps his 'name' is a nickname? Sonic disregards the thoughts for now and whistles long and low. "Well that sounds equal parts impressive and painful. Sorry Eggface, but I'm out."_

_Eggman splutters, then leans forward to grip the edge of his flying contraption with enough force to rock the entire machine. "You don't get the choice, you irritating excuse for a pincushion!" He motions wildly in Sonic's direction, his movements maniac enough to unnerve the hedgehog once more. "Crushbot! Forget the vulpine mutant! I want that hedgehog!"_

_'Crushbot' launches the vulpine over Sonic's head and he pivots, tracking the kid as he flies overhead with a yell quickly lost in the movement of forest foliage. Then the resounding whump of a heavy metal foot sends adrenaline pumping straight into his legs. Sonic turns back hesitantly to find the mechanical mountain reaching for him, Doctor Eggman waving a fist and cheering himself on in the background._

Well, the fox is free. _That's all Sonic has time to think before the giant fist closes around his lithe frame._

* * *

"Sonic?"

Chris watches with concern as his friend blinks slowly, the soda can in his hand still suspended halfway to a sip as he shakes the stupor that came over him minutes before. He looks down at the can before lowering it in measured increments to his knee, emerald pools gazing past it to the lake beyond.

The morning had gone by swiftly as Gramps outlined the rules and restrictions he and Chris' parents agreed to, to keep Sonic living in their home; time of day and top speed restrictions the hedgehog would need to confirm to when running, the position he'd be expected to work at the SSPD starting the next day, and the setting up of a mobile phone he was to keep on him at all times.

It's been a relief to get out of the house, to get away from the impending rules and restrictions due to take effect the next day, to have a picnic in the afternoon sun bathing Silver Valley in warmth. They picked a grassy clearing encompassed by dense trees to keep the autumn chill from whisking it away, set down their towel and got straight to eating what Ella packed for their dinner.

Except Sonic then become unresponsive, a far-away look in his eyes as he stared blankly at the lake ahead, and the nausea that bothered Chris for hours yesterday returned with a vengeance.

He follows the azure's gaze across the lake and steels himself, forcing the words out before he can swallow them for the fifth time that day. "I wanted to say… I _need_ to say, I'm sorry, Sonic." A slight shift on the towel denotes the hedgehog turning to him but he keeps his eyes trained on the treeline, staring them down easier than meeting his friend's hurt gaze.

"It was selfish of me," he admits, and his gut twists as he accepts the blame. "It was selfish and if I could… if I could not do it, I would in a heartbeat. It's just… you're my _best friend_, a _real friend_, and I was scared I'd-" A tear escapes from the rim of his eye, leaving a trail of heat down his cheek as his words falter in the wake of emotion and he has to sniff hard and take a moment to gather himself.

"I was scared… I'd have no one again. Like before."

"Ah." The response being lackluster in every possible facet, Chris looks to his Mobian friend with a frown to find him looking vulnerable; his knees are pulled to his chest and his chin rests upon them, one arm wrapped tightly around his calves while the other rests atop it, can still in hand.

Sonic goes silent for a few minutes after that, the light shaking of his can creating a soft tinkling that breaks the silence until he takes a deep breath. "Honestly, I wanted to apologise for how I reacted, too. If it were the first time, it might've not been so dramatic, but you… sort of hit a nerve I thought didn't bother me anymore."

A light chuckle passes his lips and a tight smile curves his muzzle, bringing the can close to his mouth before he pauses to add. "Spoiler alert; I was wrong."

Stomach sinking into his behind, Chris suddenly feels a lot worse as Sonic necks what's left of his soda. "This… wasn't the first time? I didn't mean to-"

"Its fine, Chris." His tone doesn't sound too sincere, but the sad smile on Sonic's face is genuine as he places the empty can down, pivoting to the side and spaying a hand on the towel for support. "I promise I don't hold it against you in any way. Want to know why?"

He waits for the preteen to nod before continuing. "Because I was scared, too."

Thinking of the azure as scared of anything feels weird, but Sonic holds his gaze and elaborates. "Scared I'd never see them again, scared Eggface might hurt them while I'm away, scared I might never tell Aimes…" His pause is vacant again, a distant thought he doesn't voice before sighing, looking out to the lake once more.

"My life's been full of near misses, close calls and strange occurrences. But I've always been where I needed to be, I think." Chris frowns a little again, but Sonic looks back with a cheerful demeanour. "Maybe I'm just… still needed here. By you. I'll just have to trust Tails has learned enough to keep everyone safe until I can get back."

Chris offers a weak smile, to which Sonic gives a thumbs up and a smirk. "And since I never know what'll happen next, we better make the most of it. So what're we gonna do next weekend?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello!_

_To be honest, for advice? Make sure you're writing about something you love. Promps for one-shot pieces are great practice, and try to reread your work as if you don't know what's going on; can you imagine the scene? Visualise the characters? What can they see/ smell/ hear? Hiw do they feel?_

_Finally, established characters are easier to write tk begin with, like canon characters from a fave series or whatever. Just make sure you sit back and think how -they- would react, not how you want them to. Whay would need to occur for them to react how you want them to? Is it pheasable?_

_Your own characters, I suggest planning a backstory and character in detail. Write scenes from their past to establish their character in your mind, and don't be afraid to ask someone you know to beta, espscially if they're intonthe same fandom._

_Good luck! I'd love to read something you write! Believe and practice, and you'll get further than hope._

* * *

**1.3: ...MUST UPHOLD THE LAW**

It's been eighteen days since becoming stranded, sixteen since agreeing to working with the Station Square Police Department, and three days since Ella last agreed to make chili dogs. That makes two and a half weeks without Eggman - his friends fending for themselves - and ten working days of riding with Deputy R. R. Williamson as he hands out parking tickets, checks up on social disputes and directs traffic around spontaneous potholes.

The tone for the entire fortnight is set on the first day: Clocked arriving at the station at over five times the inner city speed limit, his first interaction with Williamson is to receive a speeding ticket, the second is a verbal warning regarding seven other traffic laws he's apparently broken that morning, and the third is being informed the same man would also be his supervisor.

Wider than he is tall, the human somewhat resembles an overinflated rugby ball; a thin standard-issue belt strains around his midsection, thankfully keeping his large blue shirt tucked tight into the waistband of black slacks whenever he bends over. Tiny, shiny feet in black shoes poke out from beneath his stomach, matching the tiny, rounded and sweaty bald head usually hidden beneath his uniform cap.

In contrast, his hair seems to have migrated to his face, forming the most magnificent handlebar moustache the hedgehog has ever seen.

_Blasphemy_, he jokingly chastises himself. _Eggman would see you boiled alive for such a thought._

Excusing the paper-pushing-jobsworth trait, Williamson seems to be an upstanding member of the police force. His uniform is pristine, his moustache waxed and trimmed. Even the soles of his shoes shine absurdly. He has little humour about him though, and every action he commits to is purposeful, a means to an end and nothing more or less.

Police work perfected? Laziness personified? Sonic can't tell which descriptive is more accurate.

Williamson is highly respectful of individual talent, evident as he apologises profusely to Sonic for the speeding fine. He'd rather use the hedgehog's innate speed to their advantage than curb it, but with his superiors already decided he has to conform, its non-negotiable. Kindly, he offers his charge a lift at the end of each shift, and Sonic accepts the offer to be dropped outside Chris' school each day to walk the kid home.

With two weeks alongside his supervisor now passed, Sonic has managed to weedle a few leniencies out of the old man. Though most of them pertain to the usually strict rules associated with a civilian ride-along on active duty, he considers getting _any_ special treatment from the man who counted individual paper clip usage _daily_ to be a victory, so he's partially content at least.

His official title is Honorary Cadet, and everything he possesses from the precinct reminds him of this in large, yellow emblazoned anywhere they could be stuck - the baseball cap, his walkie talkie, his notepad and pen - the worst offender is his bodywarmer, though. Seemingly made for a child Chris' age, it hung almost to his knees before a kindly old receptionist altered it for him last week.

His affiliation with the SSPD is marked in small cursive on the breast, but emblazoned in three-inch-high letters on the back. Cringeworthy.

Thankfully, not many people have seen it. He leaves it at the precinct whenever a shift ends, and since Eggman's departure the city has been quiet, barely a parking ticket or detention required. It seems the bad choices in food and this lack of activity are the cause of Williamson's obesity, the man content to sit in his office or car for days at a time munching biscuits, doughnuts and whatever else his coworkers offer numerous times a day.

One of his favourite negotiated allowances is being free of the cruiser when they're stationary. He takes every opportunity to stretch out on the roof, the warmth of late spring in his fur and the scent of flowers on the breeze. Williamson is content to fill up with snacks at a corner store and park for extended periods of time during radio silence, meaning Sonic can relax and catch a nap on the cruiser like he would on the roof so often back home.

_Back home_.

Time might have passed, but his worries are yet to ease, a frown maring his previously peaceful face. He sees them often in dreams, usually happy and safe at home in Green Hill, but there's been a few nights he's awoken in terror after nightmares of Eggman finally ripping his home planet to pieces, his friends trapped in the endless torment of serving the madman while they curse their previous saviour's name.

Even that morning memories plagued him, brief glimpses of first meetings with his friends, of the bonds they shared and the events they weathered together. More than others, Tails was the most prevalent, the loss of his companionship not entirely replaced by Chris' friendly greetings and enthusiasm.

* * *

_Daring the fallen metal titan to rise up while he stares at its sparking remains, Sonic hunches forwards with hands on his knees, sucking in breath with difficulty. The colossal fist crushed his torso before he could get free and Sonic is sure he has a cracked rib, the stabbing pain in his chest when he breathes in a sure sign something is amiss._

_It'd been in a moment of panic he'd discovered another perk of being fast; a move he'd decided to call the chainsaw that saw him freed from the monster's grasp and having created a hedgehog-sized hole in its palm with one smooth move._

_Shame he hadn't figured it out three seconds earlier, when his rib was still intact._

_An orange vulpine head pops out of the carnage, and as he rises out of its chest with his arms laden with pieces of metal and wiring, Sonic is astounded to see the kid seems to be flying using the _two _furry tails protruding from the small of his back. _

_"That was way past cool!" The kid exclaims, coming in to land effortlessly at Sonic's side as the azure straightens with a cringe. "I thought you were done for, but then you exploded out of his hand! And _then _circled around and dashed _right through his chest! _With your whole self! I've never seen anything like it!"_

_Sonic presses a palm to the sore rib and gasps, a noise the kit can't miss. Concern mars his muzzle and his brows knit close, teal irises sweeping to his side. "Are you okay? Can I do anything to help? I mean, Eggman was about to-"_

_The hero waves off the kit's concern with a strained smile, the incessant speech draining as he tries to stay focused through the physical exhaustion. Pain echoes in his halting voice. "Never… been better. Way past... But do me... a favour, bud?"_

_Once the kit nods, he offers a weak smirk as the world starts to get hazy about the edges. He can feel his body lilting to the side, blissful blackness seeping into his brain as unconsciousness drags at his psyche, and he voices the last thought that comes clearly to mind._

_"I think I broke a rib."_

* * *

Emerald orbs open sluggishly to observe the clouds above, tracking their slow progress across the blue sky as he recalls the _other _dreams, those that were vague and apparently meaningless, filled with a nagging feeling he should recognise the contents but unable to recall any of the details once awake.

He always woke from them with a hand clutching at his chest and a feeling of loss, a void he's no longer permitted to fill with adrenaline to ignore, no longer exhausted enough to crash and forget about. Frustrating because as hard as he tries, he can't remember the woman he saw, or ever owning the pendant around the kid's neck.

_Maybe Tails was right, and I need a psych. _Contemplating that possibility for a moment, he disregards it with a puff of humour. _Nah_.

"Calling all units. Calling all units. Requesting immediate backup at Saint Bernard's on Fifty-Seventh Street." The radio crackles to life so infrequently Sonic is bolt upright before the first syllable is finished, ears intensely trained on the distorted voice. "We have a robbery in progress, hostages inside. I repeat; immediate backup requested at Saint Bernard's Bank. Over."

Sneakers slap the pavers as he lands on the sidewalk, Sonic casting his gaze to Williamson in time to see the man begin his response. "This is Big and Blue, receiving loud and clear." Having been tasked with keeping an eye out for truant teenagers that morning, they're across town near the skate park, a long away even with their lights on. At least ten minutes, without any traffic.

Williamson seems to finish his own arithmetic a second later, bushy grey-flecked, brown moustache bouncing as he continues. "ETA fifteen minutes. Confirm engagement? Over." A familiar, almost euphoric rush floods the azure's system, the muscles beneath his pelt twitching in anticipation. Almost three weeks without an Eggman to crack and he's starving for some heroics.

In a second, he can be through the open window and they'll fly through the streets, they just need a green light.

An eternity passes before the radio crackles to life. "Calling Big and Blue. Big and Blue, do you copy? Over." That exact moment seeming like a really bad time to have a conversation, Sonic feels some of the tension bleed out of him in surprise as Williamson confirms their attention. Half a second passes before the next response comes. "All units radio-silent. The Blur Protocol initiated. I repeat; you have a green light on The Blur Protocol. Over."

"Copy that, sir. Activating The Blur Protocol." Staring at the human in bemused silence, he's taken slightly off guard when the man pivots in his seat. Teal irises stare directly into his own as he continues. "Blue inbound under The Blur Protocol. Priorities as follows: Rescue civilians, intercept and detain perps. I repeat, Blue inbound at high speed. All units clear the a-"

Sonic takes off fast, the aftershock enough to rock the cruiser and drag sidewalk trees in his direction of travel. He speeds through the city streets, unable to keep the confident grin from his muzzle as he zips between cars and pedestrians with ease until he reaches the police blockade on the corner of Fifty-seventh and Lakeside Ave.

Civilians have already begun to crowd the two officers keeping the junction closed, a mass of bodies and colour. Both keen to make a good impression on his first solo mission and unwilling to stop and request passage after weeks in the slow lane, he leaps them instead, a slight twinge of nostalgia from his first day in Station Square wriggling in his gut as he sticks the landing.

_Just like old times,_ he muses, leaving the police in his dust.

oOoOo

The roads are eerily empty as he approaches the grand, Georgian manor house turned bank, pavements equally as abandoned thanks to the police barricades. He stops in the middle of the road and observe the building fully.

From outside, everything seems normal.

The offices above are mostly shielded from the public by blinds, the yellow lighting within the only sure sign of occupation, and the revolving glass entrance doors continue to spin lazily in their housing. He begins to note alternative entrances, as no doubt heading through the front door could be the last bad decision he ever made, when something makes him pause.

A woman screams as she presses her whole body to the revolving glass, the pressure under her palms evidence she's trying and failing to force it to move faster. He's already in motion when she finally breaks free and stumbles out into the street, gasping for breath before her screams become actual words. "There's a bom-"

For Sonic, there's distinct time interval between the sight and sound of the explosion despite his close proximity: Light comes first, white and blinding.

He squints against its intensity and presses forward sneaker by sneaker, the force of the explosion building in slow motion barely a foot behind his target. He's on her as pillow of building force reaches her back, scooping her frail form into his arms as his shoes skid against the concrete and turning his body to take the brunt of the explosion as his legs blur into motion once more.

A shockwave of energy bursts free in a fraction of a second, shuddering through architecture and ready to rip through them both. Heat singes his quill tips and suddenly they're airborne, his initial response too slow to outrun the flux of energy built behind them.

He bundles the woman in his arms into a ball with limbs, pushing her chin down to her chest as he curls around her protectively. Much larger than him, he's unable to cover her completely; the snap of bone and a shrill cry of pain erupt from his charge when they slam into the tarmac.

They bounce once, twice, and then skid ten feet along it's surface before finally coming to a stop on the other side of the street. Sonic uncurls tentatively, the scent of melted quills and burned flesh making his eyes water. Sore but otherwise fine, his attention snaps to the woman; the angle of her arm is a sure sign it's broken.

Dubbed "Cassie" by her name badge, she seems to have passed out from the pain, a small mercy after being thrown across the street. Her chest rises and falls as it should, and beyond some light burns and tarmac grazing she seems to be fine.

Relief is the first emotion to flood him, glad the woman is safe, but a simmering anger soon follows in its wake as he looks back to the bank. The damage is minimal; shattered glass litters the street and sidewalk, a fountain of tiny glistening shards falling from Sonic as he straightens and flexes his quills. The revolving door and a portion of the building's facade has collapsed in on itself, making the entrance impassable for anyone without a saw blade stuck to their backs, but now an even worse entry point.

Urgent sirens and flashing lights draw his attention. An ambulance allowed through the blockade crawls towards him across the glass and debris, the crunch of shards beneath its heavy frame sharp despite his ringing ears. Sonic waves them down and refuses treatment, instead leading then to the human as he gives a hurried explanation of the explosion of Cassie's injuries.

As soon as they're maneuvering her onto a stretcher he's gone, dashing to and then vertically up the building's exterior towards the upper-most open window, the least likely expected point of entry he can identify. All notions of enjoyment, excitement and pride have been lost in the reality of the situation; there are others trapped in here with someone insane enough to keep the police out by blowing up the front doors, and he needs to rescue them.

Ten minutes until Williamson arrives. Ten minutes until his free reign is forfeit. Ten minutes to rescue these civilians and see the perpetrators don't escape.

A grin touches his muzzle once more. _Plenty of time._


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello again!_

_You're quite welcome for the advice, and I look forward to seeing how you do! Good luck!_

_And thanks for all the follows, faves and my wonderful Gamergirl reviewer!_

_In a few chapters, the updates will be delaydd as I add memories and stuff, but I'll get them out to you asap once they're done._

_Any comments, queries or thoughts? Drop me a review or a pm! Signed reviws get dms. _

_Thanks again, and enjoy!_

* * *

**1.4: ...IS NOT INCONSPICUOUS **

Slipping through the window is easy, a grab of the frame and subtle twist of the waist later, he's in. Sneakered feet land on tip-toe, dull and practically soundless in an office lined with filing cabinets. Sonic can't resist posing like a gymnast, performing a pirouette and a bow as his invisible audience applaud his perfect dismount.

Then an ominous bang from below brings him rushing back to the present. Antics forgotten, he flattens his soles to the thick carpet, spins back to face the door and sprints light-footed across the room, taking hold of the doorknob. It's then he hesitates, ears pert as they flicker and rotate, alert for any sounds in the hallway beyond.

Seconds pass like molasses in the silence. Only when he's certain there's no one on the other side does he tighten his grip and turn the knob, revealing a narrow but excessively tall walkway with dark wooden doors. Old bronze fixtures with yellowed glass seem to have been left only for the sake of authenticity. They line the walls between entryways, disused and dusty in lieu of the modern striplights cruedly embedded in the textured plaster ceilings.

The clinical white light these new fixtures produce is both effective but poor; wine-red carpets beneath his feet are reduced to the hue of bloodstains while the deep beige mocha walls are lost entirely, the shiny surface reflecting an illuminated bleached blandness.

Sure he's alone, Sonic is glad for the thick carpet as he jogs at what most would consider a sprint, his contact with the floor absorbed by its fibres and his foot already moving again before the floorboards beneath can complain. Upon reaching a wall-hugging curved set of stairs he pauses again, weight balanced across both soles and the flat of his hand on the banister, listening intently.

Still he hears nothing. With no experience of serious hostage situations - Eggman kidnapping a close friend happened so frequently, it became more a game of Hedgehog and Egghead than dangerous - he doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. A sense of foreboding trickles into his chest, both constricting and nauseating to the extent he can hardly focus on anything besides the possibility he's too late.

Before he can get too fixated he does what he knows best and moves, instincts driving muscles coursing with adrenaline. He swings about the banister and plants his feet upon the worn wood of the handrail, a nanosecond to be sure he's steady before plunging down the four storeys of twisting staircase as fast as friction and air resistance will allow.

His dismount is less slick, a flailed leap of faith when an abrupt end to the ride greets him around a corner. Sonic curls into a ball, the thick carpet piles absorbing the brunt of the contact; he bounces with the lightest creak of ancient floorboards, unrolls to plant a palm on the floor as he cruises through the air and turns the momentum into a cartwheel to decelerate with better control.

By the time his feet curve over his head he's steady on his core muscles, able to lower himself to a crouch and creep up to the furthest wall from the stairs in renewed silence. Now he can hear voices, the muffled shouting of a man threatening to shoot people if they move, and a second demanding the registers be emptied faster.

Ears turning to another voice, he hears a third man demand vault codes from an adjacent room. With a glance towards the other voices to be sure he's out of sight, Sonic tiptoes to the office on the other side and slowly straightens to look through the glass.

Metal blinds left open reveal an elderly man sat straight and silent behind a desk, his thinned grey hair neatly combed over the balding centre and his suit dark and crisp. Staring forwards at nothing, he flinches when the thug with a mask concealing his face presses the muzzle of a firearm to his skull, and demands for vault codes and deposit box keys increase in irritability with every request.

Prioritising has never been one of Sonic's skills. He's always allowed Tails to make the plans, preferring to act his part flawlessly as directed than be the mastermind. In this instance he has little choice but to pick a priority as seconds become an entire minute, the unstable lilt in this man's tone getting more worrying, but he's conflicted which to choose.

The larger quantity of safer potential victims, or a single target with a higher probability of endangerment? He doesn't need a watch to know he has seven and a half minutes left to achieve his objectives, none of which he's achieved yet since Cassie is obviously one of many.

A soft click from the office signifies a bullet entering the firing chamber is all he needs to make the choice. He flexes his hands into fists, a smirk of confidence allowed to grace his lips as his quills flex in anticipation of an adrenaline-fuelled rollercoaster with high stakes.

_Time to crash the party. _

With all the subtlety of an elephant hiding behind a bonsai tree, Sonic straightens and knocks thrice on the glass, snapping the thug's attention to the window. For just a moment the masked man pauses, presumably bewildered that a known associate of the police was smiling and waving at him in the middle of a bank heist, then the pistol pivots, aims between the hedgehog's eyes and fires.

Sonic ducks immediately, the bullet shattering through the glass and embedding in the wall behind him at speeds a human wouldn't be able to avoid. As fragments of glass and a thin sheen of fine, sharp dust rains down onto his pelt he moves, crawling on all fours to position himself behind the office door in silence.

The heavy thuds of workboots echoes in the ensuing quiet, then the _shink_ of metal blinds being forced together as he peers out of the office. "Damnit," the gruff voice curses and the blinds are released again. His footfalls are heavy when they approach the door, a warning thrown back into the office behind as the door cracks open. "Move and you're dead."

As soon as a figure becomes visible through the glass at the top of the door, Sonic balances his weight on his palms and kicks the heavy wood with both feet. A loud crack and a grunt of pain confirm a direct hit, firearm clattering to the floor. Before he can regain his feet the hedgehog darts around the shuddering door and punts the pistol away, the light metal skittering over the carpet and coming to a halt beneath the old man's desk.

Said elderly gentleman seems equal parts startled and concerned, gaze flicking between the downed assailant groaning in pain and the blue anthropomorphic hedgehog skirting him cautiously. Even when Sonic motions for the man to move he stays frozen in his seat, in a daze he physically jolts out of only when the azure speaks. "C'mon, Gramps, move it or lose it! Grab his gun and get!"

He jolts into motion just as harshly, glancing about him in a frantic flurry of movement. "Under the desk!" Sonic hisses. He can see the criminal staring to recover, the hands cupping his bruising head steadying him on the floor, and injects more urgency into his tone as the elder dives for the gun at his feet. "Today would be better, man. This room got a key?"

"Y-yes. I have it." The human grabs a cane and stumbles towards the door, his former composure entirely abandoned now the immediate risk of death is gone. Sonic shoos him out with a hop in his step, eyes never leaving the criminal hauling himself to all fours whilst likely fighting the most brutal headache he's ever had.

Once the elder has crossed the threshold Sonic follows, slamming the door shut and holding it there while his new acquaintance fumbles the lock. Tense seconds pass, and then he successfully locks the perpetrator inside the office without his firearm.

A fist pounds on the glass but a moment later, causing the elderly gentleman to jump back with the key still in the lock and crumple to the floor, bad leg giving way beneath him. Sonic snags the key and stuffs it in a glove, then turns to offer his assistance, a crooked smile on his face. "Good job. There a back way out of here?"

"A fire exit," the man grunts as Sonic helps haul him to his feet, a slight wobble of adrenaline evident even in his good leg. "It'll trigger the alarms. If there's hostages-"

"Let me worry about hostages." _An alarm might make a twitchy gunman trigger-happy, _he realises, and does a quick time-check. _Four minutes, seven seconds_. A little tight, but doable.

"You head for the exit, give me three minutes before you trigger the alarms." A gloved thumb motions to the enraged man trying to break the door down behind him. "I'll take care of this jerk's accomplices and send the civilians your way, got it?"

The man nods, and Sonic's gaze drops to the firearm shaking in his left hand. "Easy, take your finger off the trigger. Don't want to shoot anyone on accident, do ya?" Slow and careful, he eases the man's trigger digit to the handle with his other fingers, feeling the tremor of fear in his muscles.

He doesn't want to take the weapon, but the man's stress levels seem to be off the charts, and Sonic doesn't want to be held accountable for a civilian death. He places a hand on the muzzle, every fibre of his being rejecting the cold steel as his other wraps over the elder's hand, drawing the human's tired, brown eyes down to the weapon and Sonic's reassuring smile.

"I'll take it, okay? You go find that fire exit, and give me three minutes. I'll handle the rest." Moments crawl by before he nods and relinquishes the weapon. With a hard swallow and a shaky breath, the man takes one last look at the assailant failing to knock down the office door then staggers away, deeper into the bank and presumably towards an emergency exit.

Sonic exhales sharply and checks the pistol isn't loaded.

As he figures out how to click on the safety, fists slam on the glass and he turns to look at the perpetrator's now maskless, foaming anger. The psychopath mimes cutting his own throat, near madness in his eyes and anger in his posture. A scowl touches Sonic's muzzle, holding the gaze without fear as he tucks the weapon into his quills for safekeeping.

Then he leaves the man behind, heading for the foyer at a fast sprint following the agitated shouts of the other criminals. As soon as he can hear soft sobbing he slows and presses himself to the wall, advancing the last twenty feet at an agonisingly slow pace before peering around the corner, ears pert and alert while familiarizing himself with the situation.

Obviously once a decadent entrance hall to the manor house, the room is large and elliptical, an ornate, vaulted ceiling above set with a modern skylight to brighten the space. The heavy entrance doors remain in rubble, and the entrance archway within is substantially damaged with clear points of explosive origin round the arch itself.

Half a dozen people - a mix of bank tellers and customers - are gathered in the centre of the room, patrolled around constantly by another mask-wearing tall man in combat pants, a hooded sweatshirt obscuring his hair colour and a pistol in his left hand. The other is with the unlucky teller who got picked to empty the deposit boxes at each window, his weapon of choice a rifle he keeps pointed between her eyes as she fills his duffel bag with bank notes.

Tears stream down her face as he yells at her to hurry, the shake in her movements almost painful to observe. This man appears to be in command; authoritative, demanding and intense compared to the one doing laps around his hostages in relative silence and muttering under his breath.

His legs itch to move but Sonic forces himself to hesitate, letting his mind digest the information before him in lieu of Tails' logic. _Take out the leader, the other might bolt._ It was a strategy, but a good one? He can't tell. Going for the man guarding the hostages first risks the other firing on him and someone becoming collateral damage.

Falling into a sprinter's stance he focuses, exhales and launches himself forwards. The distance is moot; he's on the rifle wielder in half a blink, legs wrapped around his neck and hands over his eyes before the man can even comprehend what's happening.

"Guess who!" He states jovially, a slight laugh catching the end of his tone. The human beneath startles and drops his rifle, then begins to thrash and spin on the spot, grip tightening on the hedgehog's legs, biceps straining but failing to force them off. His panic has Sonic thrown around on the man's shoulders like a rag doll, and he exclaims an uncertain "Whoa!"

"The hell is on my face?!" The man screams as he pulls in vain at the vice-like grip around his neck, blinded and disoriented as he stumbles over his own feet and thumps back into the glass teller station behind. "Get it off!"

The pistol wielder looks equal parts confused and surprised when Sonic catches a glimpse of his face, both he and every hostage staring at the azure hedgehog wide-eyed. Then he's jolted suddenly as the man he's riding stumbles over his own feet and falls back into the teller window behind him, where the woman filling his duffel bag stands frozen to the spot, a wad of notes in her grasp between them.

Certain he won't get thrown across the room as his ride recovers, Sonic motions rapidly for the woman behind to make a break for it while both criminals focus on him. She does so immediately, money still tight in her grasp as she sprints low to the ground for freedom. It's then the pistol-wielder decides to heed his co-conspirator's pleas and aims the weapon right at them.

"Uh-oh." Blue ears flatten to his skull. His mount finally changes tactics, grasping and successfully yanking at the hedgehog's significantly weaker arms. Any pride is quickly quelled by the muzzle of a pistol being pointed right at his face, though.

The masked man drops to the floor just as his friend fires, the bullet ricocheting off the reinforced glass and going wide, burying itself in an ornamental pillar. Some of the hostages scream, while others sob in panic, tears flowing freely down their faces and dripping to the floor. Sonic allows his legs to loosen and hits the marble with a thud before sliding on his belly across the marble.

Halting unmoving just two feet from the hostages he stays still, feigning unconsciousness with an ear perked in attention.

A tirade of expletives erupts from his former mount, the man getting to his feet and storming over to his partner in crime to snatch the firearm away, berating him loudly as the other stutters and defends himself against the verbal barrage. Sonic waits until they realise he's motionless and turn their attention to the absent teller, then the duffel of money abandoned on her desk.

They hurry over to it without concern for their hostages. That's when Sonic opens an eye to check their backs are turned, then winks at the nearest bank employee, holding a finger to his mouth in a shushing mime. He very subtly motions to the corridor he came from with his head and mouths the words 'fire escape'.

Its then, thirty seconds too soon, the fire alarm sounds.


	6. Chapter 6

**1.5: ...IN ADMINISTRATION**

The thieves curse and look to the sound emitting from speakers above the teller stations, entirely distracted.

"Go!" Sonic's harsh whisper is lost beneath the wailing alarm, but the teller seems to react on instinct, grabbing the attention of the nearest hostage and miming the plan. Soon they all form a conga line as they creep towards the adjacent hallway, stealing nervous glances between their escape route and the men.

Obviously agitated, the criminal ringleader aims the pistol, loads the chamber and fires at the whining box. A hostage screams and in a flurry of motion the pretence of creeping is forgotten, all the civilians running after an employee that knows where the fire escape is.

Sonic remains still, feigning unconsciousness with an ear raised, muscles coiled to act when a click signifies another loaded round. The sound never comes, though; the room falls into silence as the incoherent cries and tramping feet fade into the depths of the halls beyond.

"Ah, they're not worth it." The authoritative voice asserts. The clink of steel on marble pierces the quiet, the man retrieving his rifle before fabric rustles as it's swung over his back. "Grab the bag and let's get, before the cops get here."

"But ain't he a cop?" The second human's voice lacks the intelligence of his accomplice, a dullness suggesting he's more of a lackey than a mastermind. It takes all Sonic's self control to keep his quills from raising as he's brought to the ringleader's attention. "Somethin' to do with sound, right? Boom or-"

The ringleader snorts, zips up the bag and throws it to the other criminal, a _whoof_ of air from his lungs the sound of connection before slow footsteps cross the floor. The azure finds it incredibly hard to stay still, to not react as a shoe wedges beneath his torso. He lets his head roll listlessly as he's flipped harshly onto his back, remaining still as a foot plants on his chest, the man's massive boot almost as long as his entire torso.

"Sonic." The agreement is cold and emotionless as his boot heel presses into Sonic's abdomen, so hard it'll likely bruise. The cerulean does his best possum impression and stays dead still, the gentle rising of his chest the only indication he's alive. "'Mobian' my ass. Looks like every other Solite begging our President for political immunity. They gotta be planning something the shiny bums are tryin' to keep quiet."

"Yer think?" The dim-witted accomplice seems to marvel at this possibility, reverence for his heist boss evident in his tone. Sonic doesn't much care of the conspiracy theory though, he's more hung up on the mention of 'Solites'.

If he resembles one, does that mean they look Mobian? Surely he'd have met one while being here for over six months, and if not, _why not_? The public reaction to Sonic and his friends had been divided, some accepting their help gratefully while others observed them with disdain, never hostile but not exactly trying to be friendly, either. Had they thought them to be these Solites and if so, why don't people like them? Because this guy obviously doesn't.

The clunk of a bullet loading into the firing chamber cuts his ruminations short, the fur on his arms standing to attention. He can practically feel the gun positioned at almost point-blank range over his heart, a shift in the man's weight on his chest a clear sign of his intent, giant boot pinning him almost helplessly to the floor.

_Almost_, because if Sonic truly believed his life was in danger he could saw through that steel-toe and be out of firing range in less time than it would take to pull the trigger. His mind starts to race, trying to run possible escape routes that don't involve maiming the man's foot in the process despite, no wishing him harm despite his poor life decisions.

Collateral damage just isn't how he rolls, so given any other plausible option he'll take it. Unfortunately, his mind draws a blank as the man speaks again, still-warm barrel tip pressing into the peach fuzz over his rapidly-beating heart. "Not that it matters. One dead fleabag is as good as any other, and I think he'll make a handsome throw rug."

The denser robber's chuckled reply is drowned out by the wail of sirens, the flickering of blue police lights flooding through the full-height windows in thick stripes, thanks to the blinds. As the pressure on his torso lightens slightly, Sonic's body tenses to escape, his eyes springing open.

Emerald orbs meet with the wilted greens of the armed thief, who seems surprised the azure is alert. Their staredown lasts a brief half-second, then Sonic flies into motion. He grasps the man's boot with both hands and shoves it off before rolling sideways.

Movement delayed but still much faster than a human can pull a trigger, the hedgehog gets his chest clear of the firing line with ease, but the same can't be said for his bicep. His mind interprets the stimuli at sonic speed; the muzzle flashes and smokes, the bullet skims across the flesh of his upper arm before cracking the marble beneath, the scent of melting fur and burning flesh thick in the still air.

Throwing his momentum into a roll, Sonic quickly puts distance between himself and the gunman, splaying his good hand on the ground for balance. Allowing the movement to flow up and around his centre, he ends up in a crouch with his injured arm instinctively pressed to his chest for protection, calves coiled for movement.

Its then pain reaches his sinapses. He hisses through clenched teeth before shutting it down, the discomfort reduced to a niggle in the back of his mind as he focuses on the situation. Not missing a beat, the thief rounds on him with a scowl of concentration, lines up another shot and fires again in less than two seconds.

Fear scratches at his consciousness, uncertainty weighs his legs, and pain burns through his shoulder. For most, it would be enough to see them falter, for a potentially fatal shot to connect.

Sonic, however, finds himself smiling the same cocky grin he always gave Eggman at the climax of their encounters. Even with an injured arm pressed to his chest he can see the disquiet settle in the gunman, because these factors are inconsequential in the face of the adrenaline flooding his system, hyperactive adrenal glands rising to the occasion.

Now on his feet, the bullet has no chance of connecting; he dodges the first with speed alone, a second with a ninety-degree turn at the last moment and a third with an unnecessary use of the cashier glass screens as parkour props. Every shot embeds in marble or bullet-proof glass without getting close to their mark as he darts around and over the pair, the lackey clutching at the bag tightly with both arms and a confused expression on his face.

The shooter becomes visibly more panicked with each shot until the pistol can only click, firing pin swinging uselessly into the empty chamber with each pull on the trigger. He curses, harshly discards the weapon in Sonic's general direction, snatches the bag of loot from his accomplice and sprints for the fire exit, leaving the duller man to realise he's being ditched and lumber after him.

Reading their movement as their feet change direction, Sonic changes from bouncing around the circumference of the room to cutting them off, running in ever-tighter circles and forcing them closer together. In seconds, the centrifugal force creates a mini tornado in the centre of his circling, its air currents drawing the men in and throwing them around.

Unable to control their flight, the two often collide with one another as they're tossed about like rag dolls, bag lost to the whipping winds and tossed about with them. When the first uniformed officer enters the atrium he seems bewildered at first, then regains himself, aims his police issue glock and projects his order: "Police! On the ground!"

With the command, Sonic comes to an abrupt stop before the officer, good arm raising two fingers to his forehead in a weak salute with a smirk.

"Thieves detained without injury," he reports, only to cringe when the cyclone behind him peters out and sends both men crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The duffel lands on top of them with a heavy _thunk_, causing the hedgehog to cringe again, hesitating briefly before he corrects himself. "Without _fatal_ injury."

Arms faltering very slightly, the policeman Sonic doesn't remember the name of scowls at him, deflating the hedgehog's pride as he lowers his firearm in seeming disgust. "And what are you expecting, a medal? Your own firearm? Or maybe you think you've proven yourself a cop and are gunning for a badge of your own?"

His already faltering cheery smile falls from his face and the cerulean lets his salute return to his side in a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. "Want to know what I see, Kid? A busted door, cracked marble flooring and a girl in hospital for being _blown up_. Does that sound like _good policing _to you?"

Sonic swallows and forces his expression to stay neutral in the face of the superior officer's harsh scrutiny. "No, but-"

"No _Sir_," the officer corrects loudly, his tone enough to draw the attention of other officers cuffing and officially arresting the thieves. Sonic's ears press to his skull, embarrassed by their attention as he's publicly berated. "And I don't want your excuses, Cadet. You're supposed to _protect_ Station Square and its people from damage, not _mitigate_ it through reckless abandon. Your work today was barely adequate, and any expenses claimed from our budget comes from _your_ salary. Do you understand?"

Tan lips press firmly together. Sonic's quills scream to bristle indignantly behind their owners, but he reigns in his irritation and sets his jaw in the face of the ongoing criticism. Wanting to keep face in front of his coworkers, he even manages not to sound sarcastic as he replies. "Understood, Sir."

"Good." The human looks away to watch his prizes get hauled out in cuffs, not bothering to look back as he makes to leave. "Get that arm seen to before it scars, then _go home_. You're on administrative leave until next week."

Then he's left there, standing in an empty foyer where his apparent mistakes echo off the walls, life suddenly devoid of distraction. His adrenaline high wears off as his kidneys rush to remove it from his bloodstream and fatigue takes its place, followed by the very sudden return of pain lancing across his left upper arm.

Tentatively, he turns his arm to inspect the injury and is relieved to confirm it isn't a gunshot wound but instead a burn. The near miss of the first shot, the one that almost went through his heart, must have skimmed so close to his flesh the heat radiating from it burned his skin and melted the surrounding fur, leaving an angry, red ravine through his pelt.

The Mobian has always been a fast healer, something Tails had attributed to the sheer volume of energy that radiated from him. Amy had called a 'blessing from Chaos himself', much to Sonic's chagrin, but even with that gift in mind his eyes widen a fraction as the wound continues to actively repair before his eyes.

A peel of damaged skin slowly curls away from his arm to hang listlessly from the edge of the healed layer left in its wake, pink and new as if from beneath a scab. He's always been a fast healer, insanely so compared to his Mobians friends, but he hasn't healed this rapidly since Tails nursed him back to health.

Unbidden, the memory surfaces, casting a sheen over his eyes. They unfocus, staring blindly through his arm as images of the past flicker behind emerald irises.

* * *

_He wakes slowly, lids lazily blinking away an unconscious haze as recent history creeps into his working memory. He recalls the egg-shaped Doctor Eggman and his metallic monstrosity, the infant vulpine collecting scrap metal, the pain in his side and his slip into darkness._

_And he remembers his name: Sonic the hedgehog._

_Resting upright in an understuffed armchair, it's wooden framework and struts press uncomfortably into his body, but the aches they've produced beneath his weight are much more tolerable than a cracked rib. The absence of said pain causes a shot of adrenaline to pump into his system, the surroundings rapidly coming into focus._

_The house is dilapidated, missing windows are boarded up and others are too grimy to see out of. An entirely leggless coffee table stained with tea rings squats between him and a sofa that spews foam padding and dangerously splintered struts from stained upholstery, a deep trench of a dent in the middle of its remaining architecture._

_A desire to leave grips him and he stands suddenly. A sharp pain jolts through his ribs, causing him to gasp in pain and draw in the thick dust and strong scent of mould attached to the room. He chokes and coughs the air back out at first, then nausea sets in and he's retching, one palm pressed to his aching side while the other supports shaky legs on an armrest._

_It's not as potent as before, but the pain still leaves him momentarily paralysed, the seizure of his muscles a spasm that almost manages to make his knees collapse. Deep breaths are almost impossible with the musty stench, but as his chest struggles to inflate against the pain this is likely a blessing in disguise._

_Almost as soon as a shadow enters the room there's a crash of metal falling to the floor. "No, stop!" His bi-tailed savior leaps over the scrap he's dropped with tails whirring even as the hedgehog glances up, a deep look of concern on his face as he closes the distance between them. "You shouldn't be standing without support yet, you could puncture a lung!"_

_Before he has time to object the youngster has gently angled him back into the chair, though Sonic adamantly refuses to sit back, perched precariously on the seat cushion instead. "I'm fine, Kiddo, just tight muscles from underuse. Once I stretch it out-"_

_"Don't be daft," the vulpine scolds him, failing again at pressing the stubborn hedgehog into the backrest. With a puff of agitation he stops to rummage around between his tails, producing a small, leatherbound book, flips to the marked page and holds it towards the azure._

_"It says here rib fractures take six to eight weeks to repair, with rest and careful activity." A skim of the page shows the youngster to be right, though the text is hard for Sonic to read, let alone a toddler. The kit closes the book sharply and tucks it back into his tails carefully. "I got it from the library, but they want it back in a day or two. I'll write down what we need to know before I take it back."_

_Sonic blinks a few times in befuddlement before holding his hands together to form the letter T. "Okay, time out. Let's get some facts straight first, little dude." He motions to the peeling wallpaper and inch-thick dust around them. "Is this… where you live? Where's your Mum and Dad?"_

_"Well, where's _your _Mum and Dad?" He challenges, orange arms folding across the fox's white, fluffy chest indignantly, despite all his bravado, the slight wobble of the boy's lip suggests its a sensitive topic, and after a brief hesitation the hedgehog decides to change tact._

_Sonic chuckles, though the jolt it sends through his ribs is uncomfortable enough to stop him short to keep a cringe from his muzzle. "That's fair. Obviously you're smart." The kid smiles and raises his chin a little, absorbing the compliment. "You got a name, smartypants?"_

_Flaxen ears droop slightly and the kid looks away, scuffing at the dirty floorboards with a worn sneaker as his tails wrap timidly around his thighs. "I do. It's Miles. But I.. I hate it."_

_"So change it." _

_Emotive teals focus back on jolly emeralds, the smirk on the Sonic's face strangely contagious as he shrugs in humour. Plans are already beginning to form in his mind to get this Eggman to reveal what he knows of his past, but for now he focuses on the kid. "I'm pretty sure Sonic isn't my real name, so I guess I changed it. Why don't you do the same?"_

_"Just like that?" The hedgehog nods, and the kit feels a wave of anxiety at the prospect of naming himself. "I don't even know what I'd call myself…"_

_"Don't fret about it, bud." Sonic smiled reassuringly, an upbeat curve of the muzzle the fox finds himself mimicking unconsciously. "We'll figure it out. Think of it as my thanks for not leaving me in town when I passed out. How many weeks has it been, anyway? I'm feeling loads better. Can I walk soon?"_

_The kit blinks, seemingly dumbfounded. "Weeks? It's… its been three hours…"_

* * *

"Sonic." A familiar voice draws his attention away from memories and the fresh, pink slash on his arm. As the pain dulls, the cerulean is greeted by the sight of a female human he takes a moment to recall the name of.

It's one he isn't thrilled to see: her hair still short and choppy, Topaz's petite facial features resemble those of a pixie without hair to frame them, skin-tight Guardian of Nations bodysuit in stark contrast to the bulky, dark blue bulletproof vest drowning her torso.

As usual, her expression is tight and uninviting, the brief phase of smiling Rouge had brought to the woman seemingly lost along with her partner.

Topaz motions for him to walk past her. Unable to read her emotional state, Sonic hopes the hand on her glock is reflexive from years of service in GUN as he wearily closes the distance between them.

"S'up, Topaz? I'd say it's good to see you, but you're obviously not here on pleasure." He acts as casual as possible as he approaches, but his eyes keep drifting to her holster, betraying the concern beneath the facade. "A heist's a bit small time for GUN to get involved, isn't it?" He asks, and Topaz seems to notice his unease and consciously moves her hand away from the weapon, a decision Sonic takes as a show of trust even if his muscles don't uncoil in response.

Less than a Mobian pace behind him, the female doesn't respond until they're out of the atrium, navigating hallways as they follow illuminated emergency exit signs. "Explosives were used. We have one of our technicians on site to take samples of the C4 to see if we can connect it to previous cases through composition.

"That, and the Commander wants to have a word."

He almost falls over his own feet, his heart skipping a beat. The memory of the Commander in Chief talking in hushed tones with his employees at the Thorndyke residence almost three weeks ago returns, and he feels nauseous at the prospect of being trapped in GUN headquarters for the foreseeable future for one bad mission.

Topaz seems to sense his uncertainty. "Nothing to worry about. A proposition, in fact." It unsettles him, to consider working with GUN, but more so that Topaz is apparently adept enough at her job to note the outward effects of his anxiety when they're limited to a slight slowing of pace and a coiling of skeletal muscle.

Despite his unsettled state he laughs, the sound as light and humorous as his tone, a combination of the familiarity of pretending to be fine and nerves. "A proposition of what? Because no offence, but Towers and I aren't on the best terms." He waves off the idea dismissively. "Plus I can't just go ditch the SSPD."

"_Commander_ Towers." The correction is forceful, but Sonic pays it no mind. As far as he's concerned, the man can earn his respect before that title comes out of his mouth. "And since he _arranged _the partnership program, he's also put it on hiatus. Your administrative leave has been extended to indefinite leave, so you can focus on assignments the Commander gives you"

He snorts and is about to counter with a defiant refusal to entertain the old coot when they reach the exit, where he abruptly stops beneath the open doorway. Half a dozen equally badly-dressed agents create a human tunnel to a single SUV ahead, hands on their holsters as they watch him cautiously.

He pivots to look incredulously at Topaz and isn't pleased to see a small, smug smile on her lips. "I don't really have a choice here, do I?"

"Oh, you have a choice." Yep. Definitely smug. "You can come with me _willingly_ to have an amicable conversation with Commander Towers, who wishes to discuss your assistance regarding a matter of national security. _Or_ you can resist arrest and I can action the warrant I have in my pocket, arrest you, and haul you in for interrogation."

Folding his arms across his chest, he allows a slight frown to mar his muzzle, right foot tapping restlessly as his eyes flicker to her breast pocket. She might be special ops, but Topaz doesn't have a hope in Hell of keeping him from snatching the paperwork and making off with it, problem being the action would only complicate things; it's likely there's already a back-up of its contents somewhere, both digital and hardcopy, and then he would be brought in with cuffs on his ankles.

Plus, its well known he's impulsive, and the fact she motioned to the pocket could be a subtle attempt at getting him to try and pinch it. Given Towers has proved to be a slippery Son of a Chao when it came to politics, the Human didn't need more authority while Sonic put himself on the wrong side of a two-way mirror..

He sighs and raises his palms in defeat, irritated he can't wriggle out of this situation. "Fine, you've twisted my arm. But there better be lunch included, I'm starved."


	7. Chapter 7

**1.6: ...BENEATH DEEP WATER**

Set deep within the Eastern Desert, fifteen miles down an off-road trail, lies Area Ninety-Nine, headquarters for the military arm of government known as the Guardian Unit of Nations. Chances are if you know of the compound, you work directly under the President, are employed by the militia itself, or are under surveillance as a potential threat to humanity.

None of this information makes Sonic less twitchy during the long drive from Station Square, the off-road portion taking almost forty minutes alone due to poor terrain. He covers his discomfort with practiced ease, though; a benign smile graces his muzzle as he rests back in the faux-leather seats, eyes closed and feet propped on the seat in front as he chills.

With Topaz driving, all requests for the radio were denied, the slight narrowing of her eyes in the rearview mirror an indicator she wouldn't back down, so they'd proceeded out of the city and across the barren desert in an extended, uncomfortable silence. The two GUN troops in the back of the all-terrain vehicle with him remain stoic, staring forwards with their rifles rested across their laps for the entire trip.

It's silence the hedgehog doesn't appreciate.

He's apprehensive about the field trip, the ease of which Towers relieved him of duty with the SSPD unsettling. Even the Thorndykes already knew he'd be absent for a while, Tanaka picking Chris up that afternoon to inform him of the cerulean's engagement with GUN. That's sure to make him anxious; both he and the preteen know GUN reaching out to anyone was never just a friendly chat but an order driven either by fear or necessity, and Sonic can only hope it's the latter.

Unhelpfully, Topaz has been evasive, citing a lack of knowledge on her part Sonic he isn't sure can be trusted and putting his quills on edge. He opens his eyes lazily, outward boredom a mask for his inner uncertainty.

Three days max, he thinks, half-lidded emeralds staring lazily out of the rear-left window struggling to stay open in the monotony, psyche being drawn into sleep. What could possibly take three days?

oOoOo

_Fully intending to leave the next sunrise, Sonic found it harder than expected the leave the dilapidated home and it's kitsune cub inhabitant. His chest burns with the will to track Eggman down, desperate to discover what the Doctor knows of his past, of who he actually is._

_But he hesitates beneath the door frame, guilt turning his guts as he glances back to his vulpine saviour, who sleeps in an overstuffed armchair with his tails wrapped around himself for warmth. He looks so vulnerable, and even as a child can't bring himself to leave the altruistic kit alone again._

_I'll stay a little longer, he tells himself, a longing glance to the horizon all he permits before closing the door again. Just until I know he's okay._

_Days become weeks as they fix the shell to make it more livable; structural repairs are easy for the azure, while Miles excels at restoring wiring and stuffing the crevices with insulation, and not even six weeks later they've just to replace and paint the rotten exterior wood._

_Weeks become months in the blink of an eye, the azure's life as this vulpine's guardian and best friend unusually comfortable for a child so young, and they compliment each other in regard to skills and weaknesses. Sonic even finds himself in awe of the kid he calls "little buddy", of the sheer scope of things this toddler understands, and does his best as the parental figure to encourage his many and varied endeavours into mechanics._

_Three months of spring that become the inviting warmth and light of summer have passed, the scents of flowers in bloom and the high, demanding twitter of baby birds fill the air. Three months of peace, the kit working on a demanding project as Sonic took odd-jobs around the surrounding villages to keep them fed, harmony drawn into life despite their chaotic introduction._

_He'd become complacent, content simply to live happily and with little care, lost past an irrelevance until late one afternoon, the now eight-year old azure earning pocket change from an elderly rabbit for fetching her groceries._

_Politely refusing the tip she's offered for his speedy assistance, he isn't prepared when the peace of Green Hill Zone is shattered; the ground shakes, the paper bag of fresh vegetables is squashed beneath an oversized robotic foot, and before he can react thick, cold robotic fingers clench the loose pelt of his neck._

_Plunged into an uncomfortable calm, the cerulean goes limp as he's hoisted off his feet by the scruff. Brought eye to eye with sunken, robotic lenses, he recognises the grating laughter before Eggman floats into view from behind the machine, and Sonic's stomach plunges to his dangling sneakers, a mixture of dread and anticipation only adding to his dead weight._

_How did I forget about him? It's absurd to the azure, to have forgotten the whole reason he'd run into Miles in the first place, but fear of the man's potential quickly dissipates beneath the drive to discover his past._

_Eggman is the only person who's recognised him so far. With no intention of missing an opportunity to unravel the mysteries shrouding his past, Sonic draws a bored expression onto his face while forcing tension past the instinctual compliance settled in his bones._

_"Oho ho ho!" The egg-shaped human leisurely pulls his Egg-o-matic to a stop less than a quarter-inch from the hedgehog's nose, so close his hot, sour breath makes Sonic cringe in disgust. "There's no escape this time, repulsive rodent! You will assist with the Living Battery, whether you consent or not!"_

_Still predominantly overcome by pressure on his scruff, the cerulean can do little beyond hang there, only tone and expression to communicate his impressions. "No offense Egghead, but this wasn't funny the first time, and kinda lame to make another Crushbot, don'cha think? How 'bout you put me down and-"_

_"Another Crushbot?!" Surprised by the angry outburst, the hedgehog goes silent, ears folding back slightly as the human gestures to him so violently with a finger, his whole airship rocks. "Do you think me an unimaginative plagiarist?! How dare you accuse me - the Great Doctor Eggman - of reusing an idea, you inarticulate furbag!"_

_Loaded silence stretches between them. The Doctor still seethes, clutching at the edge of his Egg-o-matic so tight another insult might dent its veneer. Sonic can smell the tension between them, adrenaline spiking in response, but the daredevil slowly maturing in his blood can't help pressing the metaphorical big red button._

_Faux-bewildered, he blinks slowly. "It's not a Crushbot?"_

_"NO!" Eggman snarls, moustache bristling in his offense. "This is obviously an entirely new, absolutely marvellous representation of my enduring genius! Behold the power and majesty of Crushbot's upgraded, hedgehog-catching specialist counterpart: Synchbot!"_

_This time, the hedgehog's flat tone and tired expression are entirely genuine. "Synchbot."_

_"You don't like it." Curiously, the Doctor's tone is one of disappointment as he sits back in the Egg-o-matic, his own features momentarily blank until aggression seeps back into his voice. "Why should I care what you think? Soon, you'll be nothing more than a power source for my greatest ever invention yet; the Death Egg!"_

_With a note of how easily distracted the fanatical genius is, Sonic has to fight the smirk trying to form on his lips and keep up the confused facade. "No, I love it! It's just a bit… vague. Like, does it synch things together, or get stuff done 'in a synch'? There's so much to know!"_

_He sighs in resignation and looks down, acting his heart out. "And I'm gonna end up a Living Battery, never to see Synchbot in action…"_

_"Hmm," mutters the moustached human, rubbing at his chin with a finger. "What a shame it would be. One less admirer, even if he's destined for a vegetative state, still lessens the dominative effects of Syncbot's presence… I suppose giving a demonstration before your inevitable servitude is upon us won't be a detriment."_

_Sonic gasps excitedly, otherwise motionless with head still hung. "Really?! Way past cool, Doc E! But I…" He hesitates, letting Eggman's impatience and ego fill the void for just a few seconds, then folds his ears back. "Heh, it's embarrassing but… well, with Synchbot still holding my scruff, I'm kinda stuck staring at the floor…"_

_More silence, the cerulean's muscles tense beneath the pelt, hoping with all his heart and soul Eggman's ego is large enough to momentarily blind his intelligence._

oOoOo

A bump in the dirt road waking him, Sonic rouses as a sandy blot towers on the landscape ahead, draws his focus. The hedgehog draws himself upright to study the building surrounded by meshed fencing topped with razor wire, and as it nears he pulls himself to his knees within the confines his seatbelt, eyes wide but focused while observing the building with morbid curiosity.

Comprised of large, dull yellow rectangles arranged in clusters and atop one another, Area Ninety-Nine comes into full view. Five storeys high at its tallest point, the multitude of rectangles are arranged in a vague L-shaped mass surrounding a forward-facing concrete courtyard. Topaz flashes her ID at a yellow box positioned at the entrance and the fence splits as the gates open, allowing their SUV to roll into the compound.

Watching the gates close through the rear-view window the feeling of being a caged rat intensifies in Sonic's chest, and their clunk as they lock closed sends it sinking into his stomach. Quick maths put the wall at about fifty feet high, give or take the barbed wire.

I can jump that if I need to, no problem. The flat concrete would provide an easy run-up, so long as he avoids getting handcuffed to anything beforehand.

"At ease, Blue." As the first thing Topaz has said without being addressed first, the sudden end to her silence draws the hedgehog's attention from the gate. Turquoise irises meet his emeralds in the rear-view mirror, ice-cold and emotionless as they hold his gaze. "We're here to transfer to a chopper; Commander Towers is stationed on Prison Island."

Turns out a 'chopper' is slang for a helicopter, a metallic contraption Sonic's only seen from afar working alongside Rouge when they stormed Eggman's stronghold for emeralds. Akin to Tails' plane designs, the main modification seems to be the relocation of the propellor to the top of the metal cage, the speed of the huge things whipping up a great deal of turbulence as it starts up.

Despite his reservations, Sonic finds this to be more his style; the metallic box is mostly framework and engine, the majority of unnecessary components like doors and windows removed to give the 'chopper' an aerated, open feel only cultivated by the incessant propellor currents. Its less like a vehicle and more like a flying platform, looking down on the people below an exalting experience.

Until they fly over an expanse of water, anyway. At that point he retreats to his seat and straps himself in.

In the small passenger compartment, Topaz leans forwards slightly in her harness to point outside. On a small island ahead a utilitarian grey mass of runways, docks, and a large building complex of glass and metal sprawls out beneath them, together taking up about eighty-five percent of the landmass that is otherwise covered in dense forest.

"Prison Island," she informs him through their headsets, the foam earmuffs more suited to protecting their hearing than communication as the whipping of wind requires her to shout into her microphone "The highest security prison and research facility GUN operates, the location of which is classified. We expect you to keep it that way."

Sonic glances at her, and her tight jaw and the hard expression in her eyes are a warning of the consequences of betraying that trust. He imagines being trapped here in some cell, aware he's surrounded by tight security and what seems like an ocean of water, and the fur on his neck stands to attention as he nods in understanding.

Questions still roll about his mind, though. Topaz has refused to answer them until now, but one sneaks out of his mouth before he can stop it. "Why here?"

The GUN agent replies impassively. "The Commander is a busy man who uses time wisely." She looks away, casting her gaze back to Prison Island as the helicopter begins to lose altitude. "Both he and your assignment are here, so it made sense to being you here for efficiency."

A nervous chuckle passes his lips. "Just starts here, right? I'm sure it's already known I'm not fond of water." She nods but doesn't reply, doesn't even look at him. It's enough to make his bad feelings more tenacious. "So what are you not telling me, Topaz?"

When she looks at him, her benign disinterest has cracked slightly, an uncertain line in her thin lips. He smiles to try lighten the mood, sitting back in his harness with an ease that doesn't permeate his bones while the chopper lands. "If I was being arrested, you'd have used that warrant already, so that's out unless I refuse to help, right?"

Her sigh is gentle, barely audible through his headset, and she looks away again, eyes scanning across the helicopter pad as the blades above begin to slow. "Most information regarding your assignment is above my paygrade, I just know it involves Soluman politics."

"People like me. And as I'm the last Mobian here, Solites are this world's anthropomorphic non-humans, right?" Once she nods he slips the headset from his ears, waiting for her to do the same before speaking again. "How come I never met one? Or aren't they welcome here? Is that why Towers always looks at me like I called his Mother an iguana?"

A humourless snort passes her lips and she glances at him, sharp blue locking on deep greens side-long. "Commander Towers," she corrects again, seemingly ignoring the roll of his eyes. "And for some time he hypothesised you were spies from the Kingdom of Sol. To his distaste, he was wrong. That's why he looks at you with contempt."

Sonic tisks, disregarding the statement as he unbuckles his harness before hopping out of his seat, a cheeky grin on his muzzle. "Not the first human, probably won't be the last, either. So how about you tell me what a Solite is like, so I can live up to his expectations?"

Her laugh is more genuine this time. "Very well. We can't have you uninformed at your briefing, can we?"

oOoOo

Inside Prison Island is as inviting as Sonic dared imagine; narrow corridors and dull grey walls lined with ominous doors, all of them closed with tinted windows and secured behind card readers. The boots of his chaperones clomp on the metallic floor, a lonely sound amplified by narrow, empty corridors as they head deeper into the complex.

He'd attempted to keep track of the twists and turns, but the lack of reference from the sun and numerous identical corridors leave his sense of direction floundering. It's an embarrassment for an underground species, one he won't ever live down should Knuckles hear of it, and he intends to keep it under wraps so long as he's alive.

Topaz is true to her word, though. As they navigate the bland grey corridors, she divulges everything she knows of Solites history; that their relationship with Humans has always been difficult, and the division of land masses between the two great powers occurred before records began, Humans taking the barren continent while Solites protected the smaller, wilder lands and islands.

The Stale War had began forty-nine years ago, when the Master Sol Emerald was shattered and the Sol Core from its centre stolen from the Feline Guardian. Rumours still abound regarding who took it, but two hypotheses prevail: Humans, or the Hedgehog Kingdom monarchs.

Once a part of the Feline Kingdom, the Hedgehogs broke away to form their own identity just months after the Sol Core went missing, taking with them most of the other Rodent species to form Rodentia. Both Kingdoms still persist but are weakened divided, leaving them in poor political position to garner allies with the other Kingdoms.

Beyond these two lie the Reptilian Kingdom, a detached and island-borne group of reptile species who generally don't interfere with those on the continent, and the Acorn Kingdom, the oldest known established family of Royalty. Said to have split from its siblings thousands of years prior, it was an ultimately unsuccessful bid to bring peace to the feudal states.

By the time he reaches Towers' office, Sonic's mind is bulging with so much information he feels like he needs a lie down. It's not a luxury he'll be afforded, though; true to his nature, Towers is already prepared to begin their meeting, dismissing Topaz and her retinue as soon as they introduce their hedgehog charge.

Sonic feels exhausted, but feels the day is far from over. He can't wait to be shown to bed.


End file.
